The Reluctant Hero
by mckeown
Summary: "What's your name, kid?" Len asked, carefully starting to wipe away the blood from the battered face. "Barry," the kid whispered, wincing at every touch Len made. "Barry Allen." A story where Leonard Snart meets the Flash before the lightning, and when Len finds out who the Flash is, his plans are revised. Barry thinks of Len as a hero, but the thief isn't too sure. 26,000 HITS!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: One-shot on what-if Barry and Len had met before Barry became the Flash.**

Leonard Snart, thief, son of a bad cop, had a reputation in the criminal underworld as one who took the characteristic 'cool-headed' to a whole new level. Some thought him meticulous to a fault, counting down every move in a heist to the last second and woe to the person who threw off his schedule. He could work alone or with a team, so long as they followed his rules.

Despite his hatred for his abusive father, and his scorn for the police force, Leonard was against shooting cops. Kill a cop and you had the whole police department on your trail, tearing apart the city until they found you. No, Len did not want that kind of attention on his case. The only good thing the cops had ever done was arrest his father.

Everyone thought Len as cold as steel, heartless, and at twenty-six he had helped more than one person meet their Maker. Leonard Snart was not a good man, he was not nice but there were those happy few who would remember his kindness. For all his dark deeds, Len was not a monster and there were many things he did not approve of. Even a criminal such as he had a line he would not cross. Such as abuse, unnecessary violence, bad cops and kicking a man when he was down.

Len would be the last person to admit it, but he had a soft spot for sob stories, and kids out of their league. Like the too skinny, obviously in his first year of college, kid who was currently getting quite a beating.

Now all Len wanted, was to walk into one of his favorite bars and relax. Have a few beers, maybe look for a few contacts and see if there was anything worth stealing on the move, but mostly he had just wanted to relax. However, looking down the alley and seeing a scrawny kid being battered to a pulp had stopped him cold in his tracks.

If Mick Rory had been there Len would have told him he was stepping in because it was four-to-one, and the thief was all about fair odds. Len could, of course, handle four ticked off college students, no problem, but he perfectly understood why others might struggle handling such a fight.

"That's enough," Len said, stepping into the alley, using his business voice, cold and hard.

The four bullies, all looking like football scholarship types, turned to look at him. The leader, Len pegged him as such since the red head was the primary beater, paused mid-strike, the two holding up the poor freshman nearly lost their grip from shock and the fourth, who had been filming the entire thing, swung the camera in Len's direction.

"Stay out of this!" The leader snarled, "It doesn't concern you."

Len took the remaining steps forward, grabbing the raised fist that was readying to clobber the kid in the face. Whose bloodied and bruised nose and mouth clearly showed he could not handle another hit.

"I said," Len tightened his hold, a cool smirk appearing on his face when the football player winced as his fingers were crushed, "that's enough."

The leader stared at him in shock, before his face twisted in outrage and Len felt a thrill of excitement shoot up his spine. Giving bullies a taste of their own medicine was always satisfying.

With his hand still trapped in Len's grip, the leader tried to kick out at him but Snart was no rookie. When the bully raised his leg Len pulled him off balance and sent him careening into the garbage dumpsters near the bar's backdoor. The 'runt abuser', as Len tagged him, staggered to his feet, flexing out his right hand and glaring at Len's grinning face.

"Get him Butch!" One of the others yelled.

Butch? Really? Any person being given that name was just bound to be a bully.

'Butch' charged Len, lowering his head and shoulder in what was probably a signature-tackling move of his, but Len dug in his feet and swung. Throwing his weight into the punch, Len's fist smashed into Butch's face, knocking the college athlete to the side.

Len was on top of him then, grabbing Butch's right arm and twisting it back. A whimper of pain had Len looking up, just in time to see the two who had been holding the freshman charge him. They had dropped the runt, leaving him to lie in a heap on the dirty ground while they rushed their leader's attacker.

The thief wrenched Butch's arm, earning a yell of pain from the leader, before dropping the limb. He let the other two get close, grabbing a swinging arm and kicking out before getting both by their heads. He brought them quickly together, bashing against one another and let them fall with pained groans. Len turned to the fourth, still holding the video camera, but staring at him wide, fearful eyes.

Walking with deliberate steps toward him, Len grabbed the camera and pulled the memory card out of it. Tossing the camera back to its owner Len sneered, "Get out of here!" and the young man paid no heed to his fallen companions as he ran out of the alley.

Len surveyed his work, tucking the memory card in a pocket to be destroyed later. Then he turned to the runt, who was breathing hard and looking up at him with glassy eyes. Sighing, Len reached down and gently lifted the kid up, helping him to the backdoor. "Come on it, kid, let's get you cleaned up."

Really, his work was done. He had saved the kid, beaten up the bullies; he really should just send the freshman to a hospital. But that face, that bloodied face and bruised eyes looking at him, reminded him so much of when he had looked in the mirror, after his father had gotten done with him.

So Len did what he had never done before, he took a civilian to a back room of the bar usually reserved for those criminals who needed a more private place to convene. It also had a first-aid kit, which Len grabbed after he sat the kid down by a table. Opening the box, Len got out antiseptic wipes, Band-Aids, and some Tylenol to help with the pain.

"What's your name, kid?" Len asked, carefully starting to wipe away the blood from the battered face.

"Barry," the kid whispered, wincing at every touch Len made. "Barry Allen."

"Name's Len, and that Butch sure did a number on your face. Any idea why?"

"He—" The kid, Barry, broke off, a whimper escaping his mouth as Len dabbed at cleaning a nasty cut over Allen's left eye. "He said his girlfriend had called me cute. Told me he'd break my face up so she wouldn't think so ever again."

Len rolled his eyes, more at Butch then at the kid though. "Well, the good news is he didn't break your face. You won't need stitches," Len said, using a scissors to cut a couple of the Band-Aids into butterflies. These he used to pull together the cut over Barry's eye, as well as another on the kid's cheek.

Cleaned up Barry Allen looked even younger than Len originally thought, he surely could not be in college. "How old are you, kid?"

"Eighteen."

Len raised a dubious eyebrow, "You look fifteen."

The flush of indignation rising up over the kid's skin would have been amusing, had the boy's face not been so bruised. Hiding a smirk, Len finished taking care of Barry's face, when he was done the white butterfly Band-Aids stuck out clearly against the purpling black bruises and red cuts. The kid looked a sight, and anyone seeing him on campus would know see the marks left by those football jocks.

"You hit you anywhere else, kid?"

Barry hesitantly lifted his shirt, showing the bruises marring his stomach. "Winded me when I tried to yell."

Len winced in sympathy, "Nothing much I can do for those, kid. Now, where do you live? I'll give you a ride there if it's close by."

Barry shook his head, "You don't have to do that, I can just go back to my dorm."

"Kid, no offense, but I think you should take advantage of the weekend, go home and put ice on your face so the bruising and swelling goes down. Come Monday you'll look a lot better and less like you'd been run over by a football team wearing their cleats. Now, do you live here in Central City?"

Thankfully the kid gave in, "Yes, I do. My foster family has a house in the suburbs, other side of town."

Foster family, huh? Kid was lucky someone had taken him in, unlike Len though his sister Lisa had landed in a good home. Len had seen to that.

"Come on then, my bike's out front, and we'll get going. Your foster dad got any beer in the fridge?"

Barry smiled, wincing almost as soon as he did from a split lip, "Yeah, he does. Joe likes to keep some on hand in case anyone from the department stops by."

Len froze, about to enter the bar area and looked back at Barry. "Department? Your foster dad a cop?"

"Yeah, he is, Joe West, you know him?"

Well, wasn't it a small world? Joe West had been one of the officers arresting his dear old dad. Len had a list of every cop involved in the arrest, just in case he ever got wind of any of them being in trouble. Leonard Snart paid his debts, and he owed a debt to each one of those cops for putting Lewis Snart behind bars.

Did saving the hide of the foster son of Joe West wipe his debt to the man? Maybe it did.

He would have to find a way out of going inside for a beer though, for Joe West would surely recognize him. Len had already done time in juvie and prison for a few crimes, before he got good at covering his tracks. He knew the cops had leads, and suspicions about him being involved in other crimes, so, no need to add fuel to the fire by walking into a cop's house.

The ride to the kid's home was quiet, neither being really able to speak since they were on a motorcycle and Barry was probably in too much pain anyway.

Once they reached the house Len was relieved to see it dark, hopefully he could continue his little act of charity before being spotted. "Well, here you go, kid, I'd better get going it's later than I thought."

Barry's face fell a little and he shifted a little unsteadily on his feet, "Oh, okay."

"Remember, put ice on right away to keep the swelling down. You got any Vicks in the house? A neat trick I to put Vicks on wherever you have any bruising and it will help. In about four hours you'll be good for some more Tylenol, or if your foster dad takes you into the ER be sure to tell them you've had some Tylenol already if they try to give you anything."

"Thanks. I–" Len wondered if the kid was blushing, he could not tell but the way Barry bit his lip nervously implied he might be. "I hope some day I can be like you."

Len started, his fingers tightening over the handlebars, "Like me?" Did the kid know? Had he seen something? His foster father was a cop after all; of course he probably showed Barry pictures of people he was trying to arrest.

"A hero," Barry half smiled, a little bit of a far away look appearing in his eyes. "Some day I'm going to be a hero, like you, and I'm going to prove my dad's innocent, and I'm going to get him out of prison."

The kid known as Barry Allen ducked his head then, acting like he had said too much, but Len was too shocked to think what that might be.

"Well, goodbye. Thanks again."

Barry Allen walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, a light appearing on the second story window jolted Len out of his daze. Without a backward glance he fired up his bike and took off, not really paying attention to anything until he was back in his crummy apartment. A cold beer in hand, Len sat down and took a few swigs before laughing.

A hero? Him? He was the son of a bad cop; bad blood practically flowed through his veins. He was no hero. He was a thief. He liked stealing. Liked taking from rich snobs who never had to worry about a thing their entire lives. Heroes were noble, the characters in folklore that always won.

Heroes were good people, like Barry Allen. He looked like a good kid, had turned out right despite, from what he had said, that his real dad was in prison. Just like Len's was.

Len put his beer down and walked to the nearest bar, he needed something stronger to drink. Needed to forget the similarities between him and that kid Allen. Needed to forget Barry's words about being a hero.

People like him were not heroes, they did not get happy endings.

 **{After the Flash and Captain Cold have met, when Len kidnaps Cisco and his brother.}**

Len grabbed the annoying twit's hand, bending a finger back just enough to make Dante Ramon yell. "The name, Cisco!" He yelled at the kid scientist, needing to know the Flash's identity. If he knew that, he would have the city's hero under his thumb, the power such a hold could bring.

Cisco Ramon, held by Mick, fought tears as he watched his brother get a beating. Len did not want to actually break something; he did not want to take this farther. Surely Cisco had to break now.

"Barry," Cisco whispered, hanging his head in shame. "His name's Barry Allen."

Len smirked, the thrill of winning rushing through him, but it quickly turned to ice. That name rang a bell in his memory, he knew it, he was sure he had met someone by that name years ago.

Then he remembered.  
"Barry Allen?" He let Dante go, crouching down in front of Cisco, grabbing the kid by the chin and making him look up, "Barry Allen is the Flash?"

"Yes," Cisco whispered.

"Well then," Len whispered, equally as soft, "looks like Barry got part of his wish after all."

 **AN: So, how was that?**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Due to popular demand, I give you chapter two! And I report, that this will become a full story. Updates will depend on my schedule and reviews (i.e. feedback). The more helpful ideas and opinions I'm given, the more I'll be motivated to write. And can I just say, that everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story has really wowed me? You guys are great!**

Leonard Snart had been expecting a visit from the Flash after the thief had discovered the hero's secret identity. Bartholomew Allen, known far and wide by Barry, was a CSI, the son of a man who had murdered his wife and the adopted son of a cop. Not just any cop though, the same one who had not only helped put Len's father away but had arrested Barry's dad too. That tiny fact was added to the ever-growing mental list Len had constructed in his head of how Barry and he were similar.

Despite Len's best intentions the list had begun to form, and, for equality's sake, another list had started right next to it. One had to keep track of all the things that made Captain Cold and the Flash different, after all. Although, that list mainly comprised of the facts that Len was a thief, Barry little better than a cop, and all the skills that went with the two men's chosen fields that the other did not have. Needless to say, Len was eager to add more differences to that list. Barry Allen was a hero after all, while the elder Snart sibling was a thief and a darn good one at that.

After letting the Ramon brothers go, Len had ordered Lisa and Mick back to their hideout. His original plan had been to drive out of the city and lead the Flash on a merry chase before making a deal, in exchange for keeping the hero's identity a secret. Of course, that plan had gone out the window as soon as he had made the connection to the name Barry Allen.

For Barry Allen was not just the secret identity of a superhero. Barry Allen was the kid, the little runt, who had looked at him, Leonard Snart, with gratitude. Whose bruised and battered face had held such a look of hopelessness, a look Len was all too familiar seeing on his own face as well as Lisa's. Barry Allen was the college freshman who had declared he was going to be a hero, just like Len, and save his dad.

Knowing what he did now about Barry Allen and his background, Len could not fathom the kid's desire to get his old man out of jail. Police reports put Barry in the house when his mom was killed, that even the boy had claimed to see the crime, before running off into the night. Only to come back when the police had arrested his father.

That was another thing that was different between Barry Allen and Leonard Snart. Barry wanted his father out of jail, and Len wanted his to stay in there forever.

After Lisa and Mick left, Len opened a beer and sat back in a comfy chair, waiting. Given the Flash's speed, it was impossible to time Allen's arrival down to the last second, but Len gave himself within an hour, tops. Knowing what he knew of the hero, Len was sure Barry would want to make sure his friend was fine before rushing off to confront Captain Cold.

The thief was expecting Barry to be angry, and even though the kid was fast the approaching streak of yellow lightning was a dead giveaway. He primed the cold gun, brining it up just as the Flash slid to a stop in front of him. For a tense moment neither hero nor criminal moved, fiery brown eyes blazing into child blue ones, and then Len smiled.

"Evening Barry, been expecting you." Nodding to the chair in front of him, Snart continued, "Sit down, we need to talk."

"Snart," Barry's voice was hard, well, as hard as the young man could make it. Seriously, what was the kid on that kept him looking so young? Yet Len was gratified to see that the hero was beginning to look a little uncertain, whatever plan Barry had had was obviously no longer in play with the way Snart held control of the situation. "If you think—"

Len waved the cold gun slightly, "Sit."

The kid sat, looking indignant and trying not to sulk. A different picture from the last time Barry Allen was sitting in front of him. There was no bruised and bloodied face, no pain-filled eyes looking at Len with hope. Before the thief was not a beaten kid who needed a helping hand, or was there?

Keeping the cold gun trained on the speedster, Len studied the hero. Barry Allen was sitting stiffly, his entre body tense as if ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. Those brown eyes were lit with fire, yes, but the thief saw a slight tightening in the corners and a hasty blink, as if Barry were fighting tears and he just might be. For Len not only knew the Flash's identity, he knew who his family was and who his friends were. The speedster had to know that Snart knew everyone he loved, and that the thief would have taken care to have that information shared should anything happen to him.

"Why haven't you gotten your father out of prison yet?" Len asked, truly curious though he no intention of reminding Barry about the night they first met. No need to have the kid remember if he had not already, let Len keep that memory to himself.

Barry was instantly on the defensive, "What's it to you?"

Len shrugged, appearing nonchalant and relaxed, "I've read up on you, Barry, who knew at twenty-six you could have such a think folder? You've sworn your father was innocent from the time he was arrested to now, so if you know he didn't kill your mom why haven't you broken him out with your super speed?"  
The kid drew in a shaky breath, the brown eyes becoming pained before steeling themselves. "That's none of your business, Snart."

Len allowed Barry a break, knowing it really was not his business but having a hard time shaking the image of a freshman declaring he was going to save his father. "Perhaps not, kid, still, you have to admit, it is curious."

"What do you want?" Barry asked, obviously wanting the move the conversation away from an unpleasant topic. "You didn't go through all that trouble of kidnapping Cisco's brother and then Cisco in order to learn my identity just so you could ask about my dad."  
Len smirked, "First thing you need to know, Barry, you are not in control here. I hold the winning hand, no matter what you do. Try to arrest me and even you, with all your speed, can't stop the number of steps I've taken to have your identity blasted all over the news and criminal underworld. You've made enemies with all your noble heroics throughout the city. There are many who would be happy to see you dead, and if it means going through your family first to accomplish that then they're going to do it. Now me, I don't operate that way." The kid snorted, and Len froze him in place with an icy stare, "Were the Ramon brothers badly harmed? Were they missing fingers? I knew where Cisco's loyalty lay, no matter his friendship with you or how jealous he is of his brother that geeky kid is going to always choose family over his ties with you or anyone else he works with. Had it been anyone else, Flash, the Ramon family would have been burying a son, maybe two, or worrying about hefty hospital bills while doctors were busy putting their boys back together."

"So you're saying I should be grateful for you traumatizing my friend and his brother?"

Len leaned forward, "Be grateful I wanted something more than merely getting rid of you."

The kid swallowed, eyes darting down to look at the cold gun before rising to once again look at Len. "What do you want, Cold? You know my foster dad's a cop; you know I'm a CSI. Even if I wasn't the Flash there's no way I can let you steal whatever you want and get away with it."

"Sure there is, Barry," Len grinned, "if I make it worth your while."

"I'm not taking a bribe—"

"I'm not going to kill anyone," Len interrupted the hero, smirking when Barry stared at him wide-eyed. "I know how much that means to you, Red, so I swear, no more killing. You stay out of my way, and we won't kill anyone."

The kid narrowed his eyes, "You expect me to believe that you and your Rogue Gallery are not going to kill anyone throughout your heists? You can control Heatwave and Golden Glider that way?"

Len thought about that, "Perhaps I should amend that. We won't kill innocents, but any mobsters getting in our way are open game." It was adorable the way Barry bit his lip, his eyes worried and Len rolled his eyes good naturedly, "Come on, kid, you have to admit that some of the people I've killed have the worst dregs of the criminal underworld and Central City's better off without them. Me and my crew are good enough to get a heist done without killing any innocents. Someone might get singed or tied up, but I swear no one will die. You know we're good at what we do to pull that off."

"Yes," Barry whispered, "yes you are. So why did you kill that security guard?"  
Len frowned; needing a second to run over in his mind what the Flash was referring to. "You know, Barry, I honestly thought you were fast enough to save him. I had no idea at that point how the cold gun affected you, once I did I was extra careful after that. Remember where I aimed on the train? That wasn't a random spot, I knew what I was doing." Snart let the kid mull over that for a moment before asking the million-dollar question, "So, Barry Allen, do we have a deal?"

The Flash sucked if a harsh breath, glaring at Len, "You come after my friends or family again—"

"A life for a life, kid," Len said, once more interrupting the hero, already heaving figured where he was heading. "I don't touch your family, you don't touch my sister. I don't touch your friends, you don't touch Mick." That was another difference between Barry and Len, the hero trusted a great deal more than the thief did.

Barry snorted in disbelief, "You're actually friends with that pyromaniac? You trust him?"

"About as much as you can trust fire, kid," Len drawled. "Remember that."

"Deal," Barry said, looking reluctant but cornered with no other way out.

"Good. Have a nice run, kid, try not to slip on anything."

With a glare the kid took off and Len sat there for a few moments before standing up and holstering the cold gun. "Rogues," he smirked, "cute."

 **Of the Flash TV characters, whom would you wish to be saved by?**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: A huge apology for the lateness of this chapter, because it was soooo late I will work hard and try to have another chapter up this weekend. Not making any promises, but I am going to try my hardest.**

 **Guest: Thanks!**

 **Rae: Thanks for the review, hope you stuck around while I took a long break and can see this.**

 **FD: Thank you, as always :-)**

 **TooLazyToLongIn(i.e.): Thanks for the review. And if you want to be my beta reader that would be great, send me a PM and we'll talk.**

The more he thought about it, the more Len liked the idea. The more he liked the idea; the more Len wanted to make it a reality. All thanks to the Flash. Len grinned, wondering how Barry's face would look when he learned that the forming of Captain Cold's Rogues was all due to his slip of the tongue.

Of course to build the Rogues into a force to be reckoned with, Len had to be really picky with whom he allowed in. Mick and Lisa were a no-brainer; they each had their set of skills as well as their guns that gave them automatic entrance. However, if the Rogues wanted to be able to move around without constantly looking behind them then they needed a whole new level of skills, those that required higher education than Lisa's high school diploma.

So it was that Leonard Snart found himself making the acquaintance of one Hartley Rathaway. A couple of seconds into the meeting and Len had the kid pegged down to the last dotted i. Who names their son 'Hartley'? Seriously, they're just begging for him to be bullied. Len could tell from the front Rathaway put on that he had been a spoiled rich kid, suddenly deprived of his parents' backing and thrust out into a cold world, prime material for anyone to scoop up and take advantage of. The kid's trust had been abused, but more than that he had been made to doubt himself and made to feel worthless. Of course Rathaway covered up his insecurities with a snarky attitude, that was guaranteed to push everyone away from him but Len was not fooled. The thief knew about wanting to push people away, after all, if you were alone then no one could hurt you. Many people did it without realizing that they were actually hurting themselves.

"Why come to me?" Len was curious. Apart from that stint at the Rathaway building and the highway, Hartley had no criminal record. He could, most likely, move to another country and get a job that would employ all his skills and no doubt satisfy his sciencey mind.

"You have a low body count," Rathaway tried his best not to show his nervousness, putting on an air of superiority but Len saw through it. "You also oppose the Flash, and through him Dr. Wells."  
"And what?" Len asked. "You want to take down the Flash?"

"No. Maybe once I did, but not now. I just want to stop Wells, whatever he's planning it won't be good for this city."

Len pondered that information for a moment, not really having thought much of the wheelchair bound man before. He looked the kid over again, no doubt seeing more than Rathaway wanted him to. Hartley wanted to belong to something, to have a permanent place where he was not only valued but wanted as well; in short the young man wanted a family. Another thing Leonard Snart was sure of was that Hartley Rathaway wanted to stop Harrison Wells by any means necessary.

"You try warning the Flash about Wells?"

Hartley snorted, "They were too wrapped around his finger. Wells knows how to play his cards right, and he's a master manipulator. Keeping Snow and Ramon on out of all the rest of the staff that survived was deliberate. Snow loses her fiancé, Ramon has family issues, they both needed him to give them a stable environment and a purpose. Then you have the Flash, he's caught too, I'm not sure how, but Wells has him in his web."

Intrigued, Len let the speckled kid join the team, and so far had not regretted it. After all, without Hartley's expertise the Rogues would not have leaned about the park bombings until much later. Of course bomb threats were nothing new to Len or Central City, but bombs pacifically targeted towards a playground filled with children? That was new, and Len did not look favorably on it one bit.

Thankfully no children were harmed, this time, but Len ordered Hartley to keep an eye on the situation and keep him appraised. So when 'the Trickster' posted his video, Hartley pulled it up on the big TV screen in the Rogues' lair and Len got to see the crazy bomber for himself. Now Len prized his people reading abilities, and watching the man known as the Trickster on TV made his back hairs stand on end, a great feat as the thief kept his hair short.

The Trickster was a parrot, reciting word for word a script someone else had written for him. It took only a few moments for Hartley to dig up all he could on the previous Trickster, who bombed Central City some twenty years ago. A little more digging, and Len knew of a certain young CSI visiting James Jesse in prison, the same prison holding Barry Allen's father.

Now Len was no genius, he knew that very well, but he could still put two and two together and get four. Even crazy people made plans, and if someone was directing every move this new Trickster made then there could be no such thing as a coincidence. A well placed phone call and Dr. Henry Allen had two new friends in Iron Heights.

A visit from the Flash was expected, but Len had to admit getting grabbed off his motorcycle and brought to the middle of nowhere was not something he had thought Barry would do. A few seconds were required to reorient himself after being zipped off faster than any human had the right to go. However, the Flash was not feeling very generous.

Len found his back being slammed into a tree, the kid's hands holding onto his parka with a tight grip while the hero's face twisted in righteous fury. "What are you playing at, Snart?"

"Why Barry," Len smirked, mostly to show Barry that he had not been affected by the whole Flash-running thing while actually his insides were still churning, "don't you know that in order to win a game you have to stay one step ahead?"

"This isn't a game!" The Allen kid shouted. "Who are those two guys following my dad? How did you get them assigned as his roommates? I thought we had a deal?"

Len pushed the Flash away from him, "We do, kid, and this is me keeping my side of the bargain. Anything happens to your dad and I lose some of my collateral, and I'm not about to let that happen."

Barry's eyes narrowed, "Why would anything—"

"Wake up, Barry," Len sneered. "You think a prison doesn't take notice of who visits? The inmates may just be numbers to the guards but I can guarantee you they find out all they can about each other because nothing is more powerful in prison than leverage, kid. Whether they're kept in groups or isolation I will bet that diamond I stole that everyone in Iron Heights knows when a CSI comes to visit and that he's related to someone not armed in there." The kid's eyes widened almost comically, and Len allowed himself to feel a grain of satisfaction, "That's right, kid, I just ensured that your dad has someone watching his back and I can promise you that very few people are going to tangle with Bill and Charlie. So," Len smirked, "I'd say you owe me a thank you."

The CSI grimaced, "Nothing's happened yet to— Wait, isolation? Jesse? You were talking about James Jesse? How in the world did you know I visited him?"

Len shook his head, "Kid, you're adorable." The Flash took great indignation to that but the thief plowed on before the hero could verbally protest. "There aren't many secrets in prison, kid, and while it's been awhile since I was last in Iron Heights I still have connections there, and people who owe me favors go there occasionally. I hear a lot, you would too if you knew how to listen. Plus the certain computer skills of a young man recently come into my employ make it handy keeping tabs of you."

"Rathaway? You took that conceited—"

"He's a Rogue now, and as such protected by our agreement, Barry. Don't come after him, kid's has it rough and yes perhaps his people skills need improvement but I'm shaping the Rogues into a family, which will be a great environment for him to thrive in." He winked at Barry, causing the younger man to look like he wanted to bash his head against a tree.

A vibrating hum from one of the numerous pockets of the Flash suit caught both their attention, and Len leaned back as Barry fished his mobile out. "The Trickster is broadcasting again."

Together they watched the video, and the thief saw a shift come over the little hero. He knew that look well. Backed into a corner, unable to take control, people in those situations often lashed out at anything and everything in some hopes of maintaining control over something.

"I'm going to stop this bombing lunatic once and for all!" The Flash vowed, and Len did not like the darkness bordering the kid's tone.

"It's a trap, Barry, a ruse—" Len stopped when the hero zoomed off, leaving him who knew where. "Next time we're going to have a talk about your manners, kid."

Thankfully a quick call to Hartley got him going in the right direction and a couple hours later Len was back at his hideout. By then it was over. Opening a beer, Len sat back in the comfiest chair of the Rogues' lounge and listened as his hacker filled him on what had happened while he had been making his way back to his bike.

"The Flash fell for the Trickster's video call, spent all that time searching the city for a bomb that wasn't there. Meanwhile the Trickster broke into Iron Heights and sprang James Jesse loose, whilst making their escape they stopped by one Henry Allen's cell and tried to take him with them but were thwarted. Mr. Allen was not injured, and neither were his roommates, but both James Jesse and his protégé took a few painful blows. Police believe they were trying to take a hostage, and that makes sense seeing as Allen's son is a CSI, but since they didn't get that leverage the two bombers grabbed a guard on their way out."

Len sipped his beer, leaning his head back and trying not to show how relieved he was the elder Allen had not come to any harm. Bill and Charlie were more than happy to work their debt off to him protecting the former doctor but he should call them just to make sure they were still willing now that it was obvious there had been a threat and could very well be another in the future. Sighing, Len wondered how Barry handled it; this hero business because it sure did not pay well and look what the Flash did when Captain Cold was just trying to help.

Irritated, Len finished his beer and went to bed. Putting a protection detail on Henry Allen had not been anything heroic, it had been pure necessity. Like he told Barry, anything happening to the doc would not be beneficial for their agreement.

Len was in the midst of planning the Rogues' next heist when Hartley called his attention over. The Tricksters were not done in Central, it seemed, and Len pegged the bombers as idiots as well as lunatics. Who sticks around after breaking out of prison? Crazy idiots, that's who.

While Len was all for stealing from those who could spare a little, the Tricksters lacked finesse and there were too many variables in their plan. What is one of the patrons had a heart condition? Or an allergic reaction that would have caused the poison to kill them more quickly? Too many holes in the plan, too many chances for something to go wrong. Like the Flash bursting in…and getting a bomb strapped to his wrist.

Watching the footage Hartley had tapped into, Len face-palmed when he saw Barry bumble into the situation. Did the kid never learn? The thief was not sure what he could do, but he ordered his techno-geek to hack into the Flash's comm system anyway. By the time Rathaway had broken through the security codes the Flash was already speeding through Central City.

The two Rogues listened in silence as they heard the voice of Dr. Wells coach the hero into running faster than he ever had before. Len narrowed his eyes, noticing out of the corner of his vision that Hartley was leaning forwards, his attention completely focused on the audio analysis system he was running. The words Wells was saying, they were too knowing, even to Len who knew zero about physics let alone the scope of the Flash's abilities.

When he heard Barry's voice saying the bomb was off, the thief checked himself from sighing in relief. The Pied Piper looked at him though, as if he knew what the aborted move Len had made was. Closing the feed, Hartley turned to fully look at his boss and raised his eyebrows.

"Dig up everything you can on Dr. Wells, Hartley, from when he was born to present day."

From then it was a wrap-up. Barry rushed back to the building, caught the Trickster duo, saved his foster-sister, plus everyone else at the party. A full day for the Flash it seemed, but Len was not about to let the kid off the hook just yet.

Using his burner cell, Len called the number Rathaway got for him and waited until Barry picked up.

" _Hello_?"

"It's amazing, kid, how your luck continues to hold out."

" _Snart_?"

"Who else, Barry? Seriously, kid, don't you ever look before you run?"

" _You know what happened_?'

"Saw you on TV, kid, kinda hard to miss."

" _What do you want, Cold_?"

"Do you not have a better way to hide your identity, kid? You didn't even do that voice-vibrating trick of yours. I could tell it was you, Barry, so how has no one else who knows you figured out your little secret?"

" _What do you care if anyone finds out_?"

Len snorted, "Come on, kid, people start finding out you're the Flash and there goes our deal. Not very profitable for me if I lose my leverage, is it? Get a better mask, kid, might save your life one day. So long, Barry."

" _Wait_!" Len paused, wondering what the kid had to say. " _Snart, I— I need to thank you, for what those guys did for my dad. I— If they hadn't been there, Jesse would have taken my dad. He knew we were related, and he was going to use my dad as leverage on me_. _You were right. You were right all along_. _Thank you. Thanks for protecting my dad, when I couldn't. Even if you did put those guys there because of our deal, I'm still thanking you, because you have no idea how scared I was when I heard they tried to take him_."

Len swallowed, feeling uncomfortable at hearing the genuine gratitude from Barry once again. "Don't mention it, kid, though make yourself scarce on the 13th and we'll call it even." The thief grinned at the startled laugh drawn from hero, "If that's all, Red, I'll be going. Oh, put some Vicks on your wrist, I imagine you have quite a bruise there from the bomb strap."

It was only after Len hung up that he realized what he had said and the thief nearly broke his cell. He did not want Barry remembering their first meeting, he did not want the kid thinking of him as a hero, or making it his mission to convert the thief to the path of righteousness. Len was happy where he was, and no one, especially a red leather clad kid was going to change him.

 **Of the Flash TV characters, whom would you wish to be saved by?**

Barry(the Flash) – 1

Jay – 1

Caitlyn – 1

Firestorm – 1

Captain Cold - 1


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Okay, I haven't watched anything lately that had bears in it but every time I went to write 'beer' I typed 'bear' instead. Every single time. Anyway, apologies for not updating, I'll try to work this on a two-week update, unless I get motivated to update sooner than that. And yes, I know, this chapter was a long, long time coming. Hopefully I still have it.**

Len had more in common with Barry than he had originally thought. They both hated social workers. In Len's case it had been because they had been inept, unable to take him and Lisa away from their abusive father no matter how much the children had cooperated. In Barry's case it was because they had kept trying to take him away from Detective West, citing any number of reasons most of which boiled down to that a black man could not foster a white boy.

The thief put the folder away, rubbing his temples. The information Hartley had uncovered was a good read, but nowhere near what they needed to understand Wells' endgame for the scarlet speedster. "Whatever it is, it's going to be messy," Len whispered. He should not be worrying about this right now though, he should be concentrating on the last details of the heist the Rogues had planned for the 13th. He should not be thinking about the pile of trouble Barry Allen was going to be in once Harrison Wells showed his true colors.

And there was that gaffe of his on the cellphone, giving that advice about using Vicks. If Len was honest with himself, he would say he was scared to run into the hero, for fear the kid would try to confront him about their past. Tapping his fingers on the table, the thief finally got up and walked out of the room. He was not a coward, and if Barry Allen remembered the night a certain thief had rescued him well then Len would just have to do what he always did…play it cool.

The days passed leading up to the proposed heist and anticipation zapped around the group, putting everyone on edge. Len had everything planned, and, as long as a certain speedster did not show up, the Rogues would pull off their first job together without a problem.

Evening of the thirteenth, Len, Lisa and Mick rode out on their bikes, Hartley staying behind. Rathaway's job was to run security, keeping an eye on police chatter, the security grid of the museum and warn them if the Flash was on his way. The whole thing was planned for ten minutes, and that was exactly the time it took to complete.

The Rogues were in and out of the museum, priceless artifacts tucked away carefully in their bike bags before the police showed up. The whole thing was a little anti-climatic for Len, but he supposed the point had been made. The four Rogues could work together, at least like this though Hartley was untested in the field as of yet, and they now had the money source to provide weapons and food for many months, and then some.

Still, he should have known that nothing ever goes smoothly. There is always something, so it really should not have surprised him to find the Flash in their hideout, talking to Hartley. Both hero and techno wizard were at ease, Rathaway sitting at his computer while the red clad speeder was leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest. The two had obviously been conversing from the way they broke off and looked up upon the arrival of the rest of the Rogues.

Hartley, the smug jerk, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head with a smirk on his face. The Flash, of the other hand, tensed and looked certain that he was going to be shot any second. Which, judging by how quickly Mick and Lisa pointed their guns at him, was not an unreasonable assumption to make.

The fact that the hero made no move to defend himself, and kept his wide brown eyes fixed on Len, was very telling.

Len knew, right then, that Barry had figured it out and was here to confront him.

"Everyone leave." Mick was about to argue, while Lisa raised an eyebrow, but Len lifted a hand to cut off his pyro friend. "I've got this. It's fine. Leave. You too, Rathaway."  
Using the Techno Wizard's last name made the boy flinch slightly, but Len caught his eye, softening his look so the kid would know the thief was not really mad at him. Relieved, Hartley followed Lisa and Mick out the door.

Bracing himself, Len looked at the Flash and watched the hero take off his mask. Barry Allen looked at him, his eyes shiny with unshed tears and his form shook slightly. "It— It took me a while to put it together. To remember why the suggestion of Vicks on bruises was familiar. I… It was you, that night, wasn't it? Who saved me from those angry juniors? Who stopped Butch from rearranging my face?" Barry continues on, not giving time for Len to answer but there is no need for him to do so for they both know the truth now. "All this time it was you. You knew too, didn't you? The second Cisco told you the Flash's identity, you remembered me, didn't you? Is that why you didn't kill me? Or exploit me even more for you own gain? The protection for my dad, the calls to check up on me after my fight with the Trickster. W-why Len?"

Len walked over to the fridge and got out a beer, popping the lid and sipping it before he looked back at the Flash. "What do you want me to say, Barry?"

The Allen boy shakes his head, runs a shaky hand through his hair and sighs heavily. "My life's so messed up now. No one's who they are anymore."

Len bristles, "So the star-crossed boy finds out his hero is a tarnished thief. I'm sure you'll live, Allen, every other disillusioned youngster manages it." He drank half the beer down, watching as Barry looked torn between yelling and crying, "At least one of us is living the dream, right?" At the boy's confused look Len elaborated, "You're a hero, just like you said you'd be."

His words are not a comfort, or a match to ignite the kid's righteous anger. If anything, Barry Allen looks like he's on a sinking ship and the rescue boat will not reach him in time. Len shook his head; the buzz from the beer and the successful heist was making his thought process goofy. And he promised himself he would never let Lisa pick the movie for movie night ever again.

"I'm no hero." Barry spoke quietly, but in the silent room Len heard him perfectly. "A hero knows who the villain is. A hero doesn't get the rug pulled out from under him because he knows who to trust, and when he gets knocked down he gets back up to keep fighting." Barry looks so tired then, like he's going to collapse any second, and Len moved before he was fully aware of deciding to do so. He grasped the speedster by the elbow, maneuvering the numb, red leather clad kid to sit on the couch.

Not knowing what Barry liked to drink, Len grabbed another chilled beer from the fridge and pushed it into the boy's hands. The effect is immediate, the cold drink gives Barry something to focus on and his eyes lose a little of their glazed look. Neither of them speak for a minute, the thief sipping his beer and the self proclaimed not-a-hero staring hopelessly into his bottle.

"You know I didn't graduate high school," Len finally spoke, watching as Barry startled at the sudden change to the quiet atmosphere. "I'm not very learned. I read a lot, just about anything I can get my hands on but only on subjects that interest me and only if the language is understandable. Put any of that technological stuff in front of me, Latin words or fancy lawyer talk, and I'm lost." The kid was looking perplexed, and eying the beer bottles as if they were the cause of the current drift of this conversation. Perhaps they were. "What I'm trying to say is, that even though I don't a have a degree in anything but how-to-pick-a-lock-successfully, there are some things I know without a doubt and one of those is that you are a hero. No, listen. I read fairy tales too, Barry, and stories of knights and ladies, anything I could read to Lisa that would give her good dreams about a better life, about happy endings and how we might earn one, one day. What I know is that you are a hero. Heroes are self-sacrificing, Barry, they see the danger and yet they go in anyway because they care, because they'd never be able to live with themselves for turning their back on someone in need. Because they're human, they're more human than anyone else because not only do they see the wrong happening, Barry, they try to stop it, they try to make the world a better place. What you've done since the lightning, since you got these powers of yours, you've helped people. I've heard of the others, Barry, the others who were affected by the explosion. Are they helping people, kid? No, they just added to the mess. You're the hero of this story, Barry, and if you still don't believe me then go look over everything you've done since waking from your little jolt. I'm sure Ramon has kept a file on it."

"None of that was real, though." Barry was looking at him, his face reminding Len of an inmate's back at Iron Heights who had been contemplating whether ending his existence would be the better route. "None of it was real. From the very beginning, Len, I've been manipulated by the man who was my idol. I looked up to him, read everything he ever published, knew his inventions inside and out, and I—" The Flash buried his head in his hands, cutting off a sob, "I was so grateful to him for everything. For not treating me like a freak, for not turning me over to General Eiling to be experimented on. For helping me understand my powers and pushing me to do better, go faster. I seriously looked up to him as another father-figure, filling a void Joe couldn't just because he didn't understand my science-talk. But it was all a lie! All of it! He started it all. He deliberately made the explosion happen to get me struck, he didn't care about the hurt that would be caused or the other meta-humans that would be made. He wanted me…and he got me."

Len did not need a name, he did not need any more clues, he knew whom Barry was talking about. The relief at knowing that Allen saw through the man, knew of his duplicity, that was good, the anguish in the kid's voice? That made Len want to hug him, as he had Lisa when she had been scared, when she had been hurt by their father. "You're talking about Dr. Wells."

Barry flinched. "He's the Man-in-Yellow, the Reverse-Flash, the guy that killed my mom and let my dad be framed and sent off to jail. He's responsible for it all, and I can't prove any of it." Barry looked at Len with red-rimmed eyes, "How did you know it was him I was talking about?"

"Hartley," Len answered. "Wells nearly destroyed him, and his parents didn't help. He needed a home, a new family, so I offered him one." Was that a flash of jealousy across Barry's face? "I guess it's my lot in life to take in banged up kids and straighten them out, huh?" He smirked at Barry, "Once a big brother, always a big brother I guess." Barry snorted and Len noticed how tired the kid was, the dark bags under his eyes. "When was the last night you slept, kid?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't know. I've been too afraid to sleep, you know? Too afraid to let my guard down. There's so much Wells has done, I can't rule out that he's been keeping tabs on me somehow."

Len eyed the suit, "You got another one of those at the labs?" Barry nodded, "Good, Hartley's room is over there, he's got some extra sets of pajamas, go change and then give me the suit."

"What— What are you going to do with it?"

"Have Hartley check it for bugs. He rigged this system around the warehouse, interferes with any signals so right now I can say for certain you're not being tracked, but once you step out of here you will be. So go change, and call whoever you need to and tell them you're spending the night at a friend's, or whatever excuse works."

"What are you going to do?"

Len stood, stretching, "You're about to drop, kid, you need sleep. Me and Hartley can fill you in on everything we've gathered on Wells, after you've gotten some sleep because, seriously kid, the way you are now you'd face plant the table." Len hefted Barry up, steering him in the direction of Hartley's room, "Go in there, change, call, I'll get the couch set up because I'm not kicking Hart out of his own room and the couch is a bed so it'll be fine for the night."

Barry stumbled away from him, looking back, "Why do you care if I get some sleep? Why do you want me to spend the night here?"

Len smirked, "Big brother, remember? Gotta protect my investment, kid, now get going."

Barry was asleep on the couch bed the second his head hit the pillow and Len took the suit to Hartley, giving the kid a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder when Rathaway looked at him worriedly. "I'm sorry I just let him in without consulting you, but—"

"It's fine, Hart, our plans are just being moved up a bit, doesn't change anything except Allen's aware that Wells has been using him, though it goes back a lot farther than what we thought."

 **(Time Skip — Barry sleeps through the night and wakes to the smell of waffles and bacon.)**

Barry groaned, not in pain but that satisfied sound you make when your body lets you know that it appreciates you finally allowing it to sleep for as long as it needs. He was surprised by how well rested he felt, having been unable to sleep through the night ever since he had learned of Wells' manipulations. From where he was lying, Barry could smell waffles and bacon; he could even hear the meat sizzling in the pan so the kitchen was not too far away.

It took a moment for Barry to remember why the kitchen would not be farther away, why, even though it smelled like a breakfast Joe would make, this was not home. The young hero opened his eyes and sat up, blinking.

The renovated warehouse was a work of art. What was obviously Hartley Rathaway's computer system was set up in one corner, screens and computers and other gadgets covered two tables, in a much more organized fashion than Cisco's.

Barry was lying on a couch in the living room, an assortment of couches and loveseats, all more comfortable than anything Barry had sat on and expensive looking. They were centered around a TV, a very large TV monitor that took up a good portion of the wall, Barry bet movie nights were awesome. The dining room was behind him, a long table with mismatched chairs that were also highly expensive due to the fashionable woodwork. The kitchen was at the other end of the common area, completing the open-concept idea.

Leonard Snart was moving between a stove and the sink, cooking and cleaning up as he went. Barry had to blink, and then blink again at seeing the thief cook. The older man moved with practiced ease, not hurried, no doubt having the exact count down for each thing cooking. The domesticity of the scene snapped Barry into the presence of mind he should have had, being in the lair of thieves as he was but he found it slipping away once again. Finding out one of his first heroes was the legendary thief and his nemesis had hurt, had been salt to the wound Wells' betrayal had opened inside him.

Numb, Barry walked slowly towards the kitchen, unsure what he was supposed to be doing but too hungry to care. He could not remember the last time food had actually looked appealing to him; lately he had just been eating because he had to or else suffer blackouts from exhaustion. However, this, what he felt now, was not a need to eat, Barry actually wanted to eat the food for the simple fact of eating and enjoying the taste that the delicious smell invoked.

Len turned just as Barry neared the island, ladle in hand to spoon another portion into the waffle maker. They eyed each other, Barry unsure if he should laugh or look away, because seeing the thief like this was not helping his cold reputation.

The thief dished up a plate and handed it to Barry, indicating he should sit at the island to eat, the emotionally drained hero did so. The food was as delicious as it smelled. Barry barely paid attention to Len sitting opposite him, too engrossed in eating and filling his empty stomach. He did not speed-eat, too intent on actually tasting and appreciating the food, plus it was rude to do that in front of people as it kind of grossed them out.

Len watched in amusement as the skinny speedster put away four plates before sitting back and slowly sipped away at his fifth cup of coffee, a content look on his face often associated with the feeling of a full stomach. "When was the last time you ate, kid?"

Barry's contentedness was broken, Len's voice reminding him he was in a den of thieves. "I eat," he answered, somewhat sounding like a petulant teenager but the thief was not amused.

"Just enough to keep going." Len did not even bother to ask, he simply stated it and by the way Barry ducked his head the older man knew he was right. "If you want to take down Wells then you need to take better care of yourself, kid. That means sleeping and eating more, not just the bare minimum and what you need to be on top of your game." The thief was angry, at Barry, at the hero's friends and at Wells' himself from this level of self-destruction the young man was started on. "If you want to fight the Reverse-Flash, and make him pay for what he's done to you and your mother then you need to be the very best you can be."

"But how can I beat him?" Barry asked, hunching over his cup of coffee. "I've already had a couple of run-ins with him and every time he beat me. He's faster, stronger and if it hadn't been for other people helping he would have killed me." Barry stopped, looking up at Len as he realized something.

"There is it," Len said with a smirk. "Maybe you can't beat him on your own, Barry, but you can with friends."

"Will you help?" Barry asked before he could stop himself.

Len was surprised, then he tilted his head and asked, "What's in it for me?"

"What happened to the whole 'big brother' spiel you gave yesterday?" Barry demanded and Len smirked.

"I still get something out of it, kid."

Barry cocked his head, "And making sure I sleep and eat enough is what exactly?"

"Come now," Len collected the dirty plates and took them to the sink, "can't have the city's hero in bad shape, with you not on par all matter of chaos would take over the streets. No," he turned back to Barry, waving his hand between the two of them, "I like this little arrangement we have and I want to keep it that way. Now, if you were to make the pitch that letting Wells run around unchecked would be bad for business I would agree with you. If you pointed out that he messed with a member of my team, very effectively destroying his self-esteem and avenging said teammate would be very beneficial not to mention go a long way in restoring an amount of Hartley's self-worth I again would agree with you." Len looked at the dirty dishes a moment and then turned back to Barry, "I'll make you a deal, Flash, you do the dishes and I'll help you stop Wells." Barry looked at Len, silently asking if he was serious.

When the thief said nothing else the speedster shrugged and stood up, "Deal."

"I gotta warn you though…" Len started to say, then paused as he watched a blur of yellow lightning zip around and the dishes zoom through the sink and into the dishwasher. Barry turned towards him, drying his hands on a towel. "Mick and Lisa won't like working with someone who hides behind a mask."

Barry gulped, "You want to tell Heatwave and Golden Glider my identity?"

Len shrugged, "It's up to you, Barry, their guns would help against Wells but I won't bring them in unless you're welling to tell them who you are."

Barry shifted on his feet, "Do… Do you trust them?"

"With my life," Len answered. "They won't betray me, Barry, and since neither of them would ever want to hurt me they won't betray you either."

"I'll… I'll think about it." Barry looked around, realizing he was still wearing a set of Hartley's pajamas, "Um, where's my suit?"

"Hart left it hanging in his room, there weren't any trackers in it so if Wells is keeping track of you it's not through that."

Barry nodded, flashing out of the room and then back in a second, "Okay, um, I guess I better get going. Um…" the kid looked up at Len through the fringe of his hair, looking even younger than the thief knew he was, "Thanks, Len, for everything."

Len winked, "Sure thing, kid. My number's in your phone if you need to get a hold of me."

"When did you—" Barry broke off, shaking his head, "Never mind. I'm going now before Joe starts to worry. Bye."

Then he was gone, leaving a trail of yellow that disappeared. Len lifted his mug, salting the spot the kid had been, "Bye Barry." Downing what was left of his coffee, Len pulled out his phone, "Hart, any idea yet what Wells is using to track the Flash? Cameras? Seriously? How many cameras are we talking—" Len stopped, listening as Hartley interrupted him. "When you say everywhere do you mean just all over the place or everywhere everywhere?" By the sheer number of cameras the techno kid had found in Barry's house alone, Len had a very bad feeling that Wells already knew the Flash knew about him, but if so why had he not done anything yet? "What are you planning, Wells?"

 **Of the Flash TV characters, whom would you wish to be saved by?**

 **Captain Cold - 2**

 **Barry(the Flash) – 1**

 **Jay – 1**

 **Caitlyn – 1**

 **Firestorm – 1**

 **Golden Glider -1**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Thanks for the reviews and encouragement. Also thanks for your patience, as I know it's been longer than two weeks.**

 **Also, did I reply to everyone who reviewed the last chapter? I tried but I think I might have missed someone.**

 **FD: As always, thanks for the review.**

Len held the cold gun in his hand, staring at the young man standing against the armored truck. His hair was a dirty blond, and, while it was cropped, it was not as short as Snart's. His eyes were hard, not cold like Len's but full of a fiery hatred, despite the ice gathering along his fingertips.

"Well now," Len drawled, hearing Mick and Lisa fan out behind him, "who do we have here?"

"I was here first," the twenty-something-year-old protested.

From behind him, Len heard Mick snort and Lisa was most likely rolling her eyes. "Ease up, kid," Len smirked, seeing the other man's hackles rise at the moniker. "This is my territory, and you don't hit a job in my territory without permission."

Len and his crew had planned to hit the bank truck, not for any real need for the money but Captain Cold knew he had to keep his crew on their toes or they would get antsy and trigger-happy. Plus, it kept Wells from thinking anything was out of the ordinary, as far as Snart's Rogues were concerned.

What Len had said about territory was true. He did have a plan to take down the mob families eventually, but until then he had staked out a small piece of the town, in which, he had made it clear, any thief was welcome to pull a job, provided Len gave permission and it did not interfere with any heist he had planned. One final thing he stressed was no collateral damage; Len did not want anything laid at his door after all.

The guards for the armored truck were stuck inside the cab, the doors iced shut. They looked relatively unharmed, perhaps bruised from the vehicle having fallen to its side, the side of the truck covered by a larger blast of ice than Len had been able to make with his cold gun. The kid had skill, though the older thief suspected this heist had been spur of the moment, since he had heard nothing of it through the criminal underworld.

Len was sure though that this was no newcomer to the city. The kid looked too familiar, though a face Snart had never interacted with he was sure he had seen pictures in the newspapers.

"I need the money." Mark Mardon, that was who it was, the muscle of the two brothers. Len had heard of Clyde Mardon's death, but had thought Mark had left Central City, since nothing had been heard of the surviving member of the thieving duo. Len had never worked with the Mardons, finding Clyde to be too much of a crazed psycho, who had not cared if what he stole destroyed a middle class family's savings or in ordering Mark to kill someone.

"Don't we all?" Len asked with a smirk.

Impatient, that was something Len could call Mark now, for the intruding thief, having enough, lashed out at the three of them with hurling balls of ice shooting out of his hands. Len dodged, jumping for Lisa and firing his gun at the same time. Lisa had fired as well, her shot hitting the pavement as Len knocked her down, out of the way. Snart's shot hit the van, as Mark ducked, missing the flames from Mick's gun.

"Hey!" Lisa yelled at Len, but he did not look at her. Firing another shot while kneeling in front of his sister, Len was knocked over on top of Lisa from the shock of his shot colliding with another blast from Mardon. The two opposing forces of ice burst outward, showering icicles over the area.

Heatwave brought his gun up and held the trigger. Flame spouted out of the barrels, blazing a path towards Mark and he yelled, his coat catching fire. Sirens blared in the distance, speedily approaching the quarreling thieves.

Coating his coat in a layer of ice, Mardon took off, running down the street. Len helped Lisa to her feet and then signaled Mick to follow, right now they had to get out of there, but they would find Mark Mardon and settle this fight later. The three Rogues made it to their motorcycles and sped away, returning by different routes to their hideout.

When Len walked in and saw Hartley he ground his teeth, "Find out everything you can on Mark Mardon. I want to know what he's been doing since his brother's death, who his contacts are and where he hangs out."

"There's a hit on the Flash," Hartley said, fingers touching his glasses though they did not require adjusting on his nose.

Len paused, his eyes searching Rathaway's. There were many hits on the Flash. Or, in actuality, there were hits on 'the Streak', the 'red blur', the 'thing that threw my crew into prison'. But not many of the Flash by name.

"Specifically on the Flash?" Len asked.

"Yes. It was put out by the Santini family, seems the Flash took out one of their operations and they're ticked off."

"Has anyone taken it?"

"Yes," Hartley looked up at Len. "Mark Mardon took the contract a day ago."

"Wait," Lisa, having fetched a beer from the bridge only for Len to steal it from her, dropped down on the nearest couch, "the guy we ran into earlier took a job to kill the Flash? Why's he pulling a burglary job then?"

Len popped the cap off the beer and took a sip. "He said he needed the money." Mick joined them, tossing a soda to Hartley and Lisa, who stuck her tongue out of him as the pyro enjoyed his own beer. "Why do you try to rob something after taking on another job?"

Mick took a large swallow, "To buy your way out of doin' the first job." Mick was no brains for an operation but he knew the jobs, knew the criminal underworld like the flames of a match, and the way criminals thought when backed in a corner. "Mardon wants out of it, but he can't just drop the job, he has to buy his way out."

Lisa frowned, "Why take a job only to back out?"

"Maybe he realized the stakes were too high?" Hartley offered, looking at Len.

Len shook his head, "No. There's something else going on. Hartley, hack the Santini network. Leave no file unopened, they have something on Mardon and we need to find out what it is."

Hartley got up, retreating to his side of the warehouse/lair, where a couple movable walls had been set up to give him a quieter place to work. Mick snorted, guzzling his beer, "You thinkin' of takin' in another lost kid? Are you Peter Pan now?"

Lisa snickered at the glare Len gave Mick but she turned serious, "Are you?"

Len considered. Mark Mardon had a power that could come in handy, but was he workable? The Mardons had never worked with more than one other person, so Mark in a team of four(five, counting him) would be questionable, but the benefits. Put aside the fact that Mark had attacked his sister(which Len would repay), there was something about the surviving Mardon brother that had caught Snart's attention. Was it the eyes, appearing bruised from lack of sleep for many weeks? The way his skin lacked any fat, the thinness of his face, achieved not from a willing diet but from starvation? The pain and desperation that had practically bled off of him?

The Santini crime family was a nasty business, their hands deep in many money-making, illegal activities, many of which churned Len's stomach.

"The Santinis' have a large territory, one I've had my eye on for awhile." Len patted his gun, eyeing Mick and Lisa, "With these we can be at the top of Central City's underworld, but we need to take out the competition first and make a name for ourselves, one that no one will be able to laugh off. We're going to take down the Santinis', but if they have Mardon in their pocket we'll have to take him out first. You saw his abilities; that was nothing to laugh at. As long as he works for the Santinis' he's a threat, and while they won't be easy to take down they'll be all the harder with him on their side."

"Your plan?" Mick asked.

"We run him down and give him an offer. Whether to join us or skip town, the call's his, you know I don't force."

"Agreed." Mick finished his beer and stood, "But if he sides with the Santinis' I fry him."

Len's eyes crinkled in mirth, thinking Mick might have a little trouble doing that, "Deal."

Len got up shortly after Lisa retreated to her room and walked over to Hartley's office. "How's the search going?"

Hartey shrugged, "Hacking into the Santini accounts wasn't that hard, but there's a lot of data here. Could take awhile to shift through it. Mardon, on the other hand, disappeared off the grid for awhile. He was found passed out in a field after the accelerator explosion and taken to a hospital, his face was badly burnt so no one recognized who he was. When he healed enough he left, but not the city. There's no sign of him going that far. A traffic cam picks him about to take a train out but see here," Hartley pointed to the screen, "these two guys stop him."

Len watched. Mark Mardon was shaky, possibly ignorant of what he could do or frightened of it without any control. The two men stopping him had mob written all over them, and the unmarked van they hustled Mardon into was a typical Santini call. The family had no imagination left, it seemed.

"So, they picked him up, and he's been with them ever since?" Len asked.

Hartley nodded, "Looks that way. About two weeks ago he started going on jobs for them, just small stuff at first and always with a crew, at least the first week. Last week he started being sent out alone on hit jobs. Then they put out the hit on the Flash and he signed up to take it almost immediately."

Len snorted, "They did that to make it look good." Len considered, "So, they took him and started sending him on jobs when they knew they could trust him, when they knew they wouldn't have to worry about him running away. The kid wants out, whatever they're holding on him he thought robbing that armored truck would pay them off."

One of Hartley's computers beeped just then and the Techno Wizard moved over to it, touching a couple buttons before something popped up on the monitor. "Well, here's how they're controlling him."

Len tilted his head, scrutinizing the object displayed on the screen, once he realized what it was his expression hardened and his hand tightened its hold on the cold gun's handle. "Where has Mardon been hanging out lately?"

The bar was a dirty type, not class enough for the big buck spenders to associate with nor was it a place for those criminals who still had some self-respect. This was where the lowest of the low came, where those who wanted to disappear and be unnoticed frequented. The bar had a fight every other day, humanity's worst criminals without a flashy suit to hide it had an urge to prove themselves top dog, and those pushed down unfairly by the law and forced to enter the society of the _Triple 000_ had to either defend themselves when pressed or be swept away. There was no compassion to be had in a place like this; one did best by minding one's own business, no matter what kind of immorality was going on.

Len entered the bar with a fierce scowl, hating the atmosphere of the building before even seeing the inside. Mick was with him, Snart would have been a fool going in without backup in a place like this and Hartley was listening through the coms. Lisa was waiting in the truck, not at all put out to be made the driver for this job. She knew how bad the _Triple 000_ could be by reputation, just like Len did and the only way she would go in there was if she could go in with her gold gun blazing.

The bar was crowded, a fact Len was happy for as most were too busy to note his and Mick's entrance. Those who did either looked away or sized him up for a challenge. Len put on a bored look and scanned the crowd, looking for Mardon. According to Hartley, Mark had been coming here almost every day since the Santinis' had let him start leaving the place they had held him unaccompanied. Why this bar, Len was not sure. While no lightweight, Mark was still not beefed up enough to classify as a hardcase here, nor was he like the those who ducked their heads and acted like fighting was the last thing they ever wanted to do.

There was a commotion in the corner of the bar, near the two faded pool tables. It was Mardon, in a fight against two tattooed bruisers. Mardon was between the two, his arms held by the one behind him while he dodged hits and kicked out at the other. So common was this scene that few were watching.

Len pushed his way through, not bothering to get a drink of the cheap liquor offered as he watched the fight. Mick was close behind him.

Len winced as the guy holding Mark bent him forward in time to meet a punch from the second guy. Mardon's head went sideways, bruises already forming on the skin. With their target stunned, the one doing the punching started to focus on the pinned man's torso, aiming for the stomach.

"Hartley, are we set?" Len asked quietly.

"He's ours," Hartley responded.

"Good boy," Len praised. He turned his head to his partner, "You want the honors?"

"Finally." Mick rushed in, typical boiled bull behavior, and grabbed the guy who was punching, twisting him around to meet a left hook to the face. The one holding Mardon tossed the kid to the side and ran at Mick, but Heatwave was no amateur. He grabbed the fist coming at him and twisted it, driving a hard slam into the second guy's stomach so he would double over. The first guy was up again and Mick let him come, grabbing his arm and hurling him into the side of the bar, the way having cleared when the bystanders realized what was about to happen. The second guy, recovering his wind, started to get up but Mick kicked him down hard before he had gotten his feet under him and he fell.

Mardon, one arm cradling his abdomen, stumbled to his feet and turned to run. Len stepped up next to him and drew his gun, the barrel lighting up and freezing Mark in his tracks. Len smirked, "I wouldn't." Mardon eyed the barrel; fingers of his right hand twitching as if he were debating whether he could conjure up some ice before Snart shot him. "Now, now, no need for that." Len's other hand shot out, grabbing Mark's arm and twisting it around his back, then he placed his gun up against the hitman's spine, "Let's go for a walk, kid."

Len directed Mardon out of the bar and Mick followed, leaving the two bruisers behind, groaning in pain. Once outside, Mick drew his gun and while he kept the barrel just far enough away from Mardon's arm Len knew the man could feel the heat. The car was at the curb, Lisa at the wheel and the engine started up before they were halfway there.

Mardon was breathing fast as Len pushed him into the backseat, Mick taking the otherside so they sandwiched him. "You've got to let me go," Mark finally found his voice. "Please! Let me go! I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry I pulled a job in your territory but I didn't know it was yours."

Len cocked his head, an easy smile on his face, "You think that excuses you shooting at my sister?"

Mardon's eyes opened wide, flicking quickly to where Lisa was driving before looking back at Snart, "I didn't want to hurt her, or either of you, I just needed that money."

"Because you needed to buy your way out of killing the Flash?"

Mardon's eyes, if possible, went even wider, before narrowing in suspicion. "How do you know that? Nobody knows that!"

"Calm down, kid. It didn't take a genius to figure out that with as high a bounty on the Flash, the only reason you would steal money was to buy yourself out of the contract."

"You need to let me go."

Len smirked, "No, no I don't think I do, kid."

"You don't understand. The Santinis'—"

"Don't own you anymore, kid. If they did that collar around your neck would have zapped you the second you got in the car, but it didn't , did it?"

Mardon's hand lifted to touch the top of the turtleneck sweater he wore under his jacket. The kid was hardly dressed for the coldness of December, and Len wandered if his core temperature was different now because of his ice powers, or if the Santinis' just had not cared about his health.

"How do you know—"

"I know a talented kid who's really good with computers, can't quite keep himself from hacking mobsters and learning their little dark secrets. Rewriting the controls for a shock collar was a piece of pie for him."

"So, they don't control me anymore," Mardon's eyes hardened, "but you do."

"That depends on you, kid. You have two options: First, you take an amount of cash I loan you and you leave town, with a promise to lay me back in five years and never return to Central City. Second choice is this: you stay and join my team, you help us take down the Santini family and promise not to kill any cops or civilians, or antagonize the Flash. Against other criminals you will defend yourself, and if a cop shoots at you then you can disarm them or incapacitate them, but no killing. Understood?"

Mardon looked at him in disbelief, "Are you serious?"

Len drew a key out of his pocket, hoping he was making the right choice and was not going to get killed by a stake of ice. Mardon saw the key and his breathing sped up, "That's—"

"The key to your collar," Len said. "May I?"

Mardon held still, his eyes watching Len carefully as the older thief pull the top of the sweater away, exposing the band of metal wrapped tightly around the neck. The edges of the skin around the collar were red and Len would not be surprised if the skin underneath had been rubbed raw. Snart was quick in finding the mechanism where the key inserted, his fingers brushing against Mardon's pulse as he did so and finding the younger man's heartbeat erratic.

A click later and the collar opens, exposing red, swollen and inflamed flesh. Just as Len had suspected. He paused in taking the collar away, noting small burns in perfect circles around the neck. He looked into the inside of the collar and found eight points, constantly heated to keep Mardon from freezing the collar off.

Mark rubbed at his neck, wincing as his fingers grazed the burn marks. His eyes looked at Len, full of a hope the man was scarcely allowing himself to hold onto. Snart was bitterly reminded of two other times when he had seen a battered face turned towards him for help, the first had been Lisa, the second had been Barry. Yes, history was repeating itself, who knew.

Mardon opened up after that, spilling his story back at the warehouse while Len saw to his injuries. Someone working for the Santinis' had seen Mark ice his way out of the hospital and the mobster family had sent men after him. He had gone along without a fight because they said they had had Clyde, and no matter how much Mark had hated his brother he had always stuck by him.

"You hated your brother?" Len interrupted, having stopped in his bandaging of the other man's broken ribs.

"Yeah," Mark confessed. "I stuck with him because he was all I had, and I was scared to be on my own. I needed him, but I hated it when he ordered me to kill someone or help him rob banks. He was so angry all the time and would take out on me if there wasn't anyone else, but I was too scared to stand up to him. I hated him, but… I guess I figured the devil I knew was better than the one I didn't."

The Santinis' had been quick to subdue Mark after he got in the van, and he had woken up in a lab. The temperature had been kept too warm and the lighting terrible so he could not see anyone. He had only been there a week before the collar had been put on him and then he had been handed back over to the Santinis'. They had driven him to exhaustion, testing the limits of his powers, forcing him to control the ice through either pain administered by his handlers or the collar.

They had told him of Clyde's death, though a cop claimed having shot his brother the Streak or the Flash, as he now was called, had gotten some suspicion as well. Mardon did not care who had done it; they had done him a favor. But he was free of one abuser only to fall into the hands of another.

Mark had quickly learned to shut himself off, to hold everything inside and not give into the Santini enforcers who constantly verbally abused him, as well as physical, to entice a response. Showing his compliance made them test him by sending him out on jobs. The first time he had killed for them he had thrown up in the privacy of his room, utterly sure that this was his life now and there would be no escape so long as that collar was wrapped securely around his throat. When he had been signed up to kill the Flash, Mark had panicked. Not wanting to die he had tried to rob the armored truck, hoping the jewels would buy his owners off. Having nothing to give them after the failed attempt had earned him a day of punishment, through the collar and by a man named Martelli, who had taken great delight in beating him black and blue. The three broken ribs, and two cracked, were a present from him.

"You're really going to take them down?" Mark asked, hissing as Len dabbed a bit of cream on the burns on his neck. Lisa, Mick and Hartley sat around, watching but also working on something else so that they were not gawking. Well, Mick was use to having a number of injuries, so Mardon's battered body did not surprise him so much as it Lisa and Hartley.

"Yes," Len answered, "I want their territory and you're not the first they've manipulated into working for them. They're going down, hard and for good."

"Some of them will have to die," Mark stated.

"Yes," Len affirmed. "The Flash won't interfere, I'll see to that. But for us to stop the Santinis' for good some of them will have to be buried, can you handle that?"

Mark's face hardened, "You bet I can."

Later then evening, Len broke into the West house. Hartley had wiped the cameras, and Wells was at a concert with the Snow girl so the coast would be clear. The house was already decorated for Christmas, even though it was a week away, some people just had to be over prepared it seemed. The Wests' and Allen out, a police charity function or something but would be back soon, still Len had time to poke about.

Inspecting the kitchen, Len found a box of hot chocolate packets, special dark chocolate to be exact. He stuffed a few in his pockets before starting the hot water heater and finding himself a mug and a spoon. Perhaps he was still a bit of a child as he could not help but take the reindeer mug from the cupboard, and be vastly disappointed in not finding any marshmallows.

Sitting down in the living room, Len sipped his hot chocolate and waited for the West/Allen party to arrive. The time let him reflect a little on what Mark had told him, in particular the time he had spent in a lab. The tech of the collar had been outside the Santinis' reach, very sophisticated and, if Len was not mistaken, military grade too. He was halfway through the mug's contents when the door opened, Barry and his adopted sister laughing at something the detective had said. Barry was first to see him, freezing with one arm flung in front of Iris, who also froze in place. Joe West, on the otherhand, whipped out his gun and pointed it at Snart.

Len took a sip of the hot chocolate, looking over the rim of the mug at the three and smirking, "Ho, ho, ho."

 **Of the Flash TV characters, whom would you wish to be saved by?**

Captain Cold - 12

Barry(the Flash) – 7

Jay – 3

Caitlyn – 2

Firestorm(the young guy) – 1

Golden Glider – 1

Dr. Wells(The Real Dr. Wells) - 1


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I am sorry this took so long, real life got hectic and then I lost my muse. I was really disappointed with the end of the 2nd season of the Flash and haven't even bothered with the 3** **rd** **season.**

 **Also, does anyone have any suggestions on who Len should recruit next for the Rogues?**

 **Also, please note that in my story Barry will not run hot and cold on the matter of Joe being his dad like he does in the show. "You're not my father"/"You're the best dad ever" will not be happening in here. Joe is Barry's foster dad, as Joe could not bring himself to bring up adoption to Barry seeing how much the kid believed in Henry Allen's innocence. So, Joe is his dad, and Henry is his father. Got it? Good.**

 **Also, also, I'm not comfortable doing Barry/Iris. To me that pairing felt really forced in the show, there was no chemistry between the two. I may not write any pairings any all, but definitely won't have that one.**

 **Strawberry's n cream: Thanks for the review!**

The man known as "Len" had been Barry's hero that dark night. The boy had not forgotten him, though the details of his rescuer's face had blurred, Barry had remembered everything the man had done and said to him. He had wanted to be that brave, to calmly stroll into a group of bullies and wipe the floor with them. He had wanted Len to meet his foster dad, knowing the two of them would have gotten along pretty well, them both having saved Barry from face-planting the pavement.

But the man known as "Len" had disappeared into the night. Joe had helped try to find the stranger who had stepped out of his way to help his foster-son, but had been unable to find much based off of Barry's description.

Disappointed, Barry had set out to make Len proud of him. Although he never quite had it in him to take up martial arts, he did take a few self-defense classes and the bullies had backed off after seeing him stand his ground. Barry had pushed himself even harder to become a CSI, not only to help his dad but to hopefully find Len and properly thank him.

It had been a shock to find out that Len was a thief, and not just any thief but the notorious Captain Cold. A man who had quickly become labeled the Flash's nemesis. Newspapers had already started speculating on why the Flash seemed unable to put the thief away, even though everyone else he fought either disappeared or were still stuck in jail where they belonged. Barry had feared what would happen should the reporters ever learn he had made a deal with the criminal, his former hero, a man he still found himself wanting to impress even now that he knew who he really was.

The biggest shock, however, had been when he had managed to pull Joe aside and tell him what was really going on between him and Len, and that the thief and his rescuer were one and the same. Joe had known all along, had found out in the first year of searching for the mysterious "Len" but had not told Barry for fear of the disappointment and hurt the impressionable young man would feel once he learned his hero was one of the bad guys.

Barry had known he would see Len again after the day at the warehouse hideout, he just had not expected to find him sitting in the living room of his dad's house drinking hot cocoa. Still, despite the humor he felt at seeing the fearsome Captain Cold holding a steaming mug carefully in his hands, Barry moved, without hesitation, between the gun Joe was holding and the thief.

"Barry—"

"No Joe," Barry whispered, "you can't shoot him. You know he's helping me, please, just hear him out."

A look passed between son and dad, one of trust. Joe trusted Barry on this, so he lowered his gun, for he taught his children the same philosophy handed down to him by his own father. " _Never step in front of a gun unless you know the cause you stand for is just_."

"Alright," Joe said, looking at the thief. "You're here in my home, tell me why and then leave."

"Down to business," Len said, putting aside the mug and standing up, "I like that, detective. Well, I've taken in a new member of the Rogues, as long as he plays by my rules he has my protection, and I hope the Flash will go easy on him, the kid's had it rough."  
Barry stiffened slightly, then had to internally ask himself why. Was he jealous that Len was calling someone else 'kid'? That was ridiculous, he was always annoyed when the thief called him that nickname, and reminding the speedster how young he was. So of course, Barry was not jealous Len was calling another guy 'kid' that just meant he hopefully would stop calling the hero that.

For some reason, in his own mind, Barry did not sound too convincing.

"Also," Len continued, "with the Rogues expanding we're in need of more space, and we've decided the Santini holdings look very promising."

Both Wests and Barry froze, the implications in Snart's words very clear. Still, the hero had to make sure, "You mean…?"

Len nodded, "The Flash needs to be busy elsewhere, and I'm telling you now, Barry, there are going to be bodies."

Barry flinched, "You promised—"

"Our agreement still stands, no innocent lives will be lost, but you have to agree, Allen, that the Santini mobsters are hardly innocent."

Yes, Barry could see that, but killing someone? It was a reason the boy had never become a cop, only a CSI, he knew he could never pull the trigger and there would be many situations he would have to defend not only himself but others as well.

Barry frowned, "Who's the new Rogue?"

Len smirked, though his eyes tightened as he scrutinized both Barry and Detective West, "Mark Mardon."

"What?" Joe West voiced what Barry thought, though the kid could not bring himself to speak. "You can't possibly accept such a man—"

"He's not a man," Len said. "He's a kid who's been victimized by his own brother and the mafia, he's been through hell, and was never given a way out until now, by me. He's under my protection now, he'll play by my rules, of that I can promise you."

"You can't trust a Mardon!" West thundered and Len froze him with his cold eyes, all joking and humor gone.

"I can trust him, because I freed him, because I took the collar off his neck that allowed the mafia to control him. Mark Mardon is nothing like his brother Clyde, and, given the chance, will be a better man than I."

Len's phone buzzed then, a warning that time was up. "We're finished here. There's five minutes before the cameras come back on, I suggest you go outside and wait before coming back in, make it look good, like you've been talking outside about stuff."

The thief left, walking the block to where he had left his motorcycle without looking back. He had never been much of a hopeful person, until he met Barry, kid had hope written in his DNA. So when Len found himself hoping that Dr. Wells was fooled by the cameras he knew who to blame.

When the time came to take down the Santini family, Dr. Wells had showed no signs of knowing Hartley had interfered with the cameras monitoring the Wests, so the Rogues moved forward with their plans. The day came when they were going to take down the Santinis', and Len kept an extra eye of Mark Mardon. The kid had been on his best behavior, naturally wary of a new situation and uncertain of his place in the group. Hartley had learned to check his barbs and sarcasm, as the storm maker was not one to understand subtle messages and preferred everyone to say what they meant. Oddly enough, Mark and Mick had become sparring buddies, though Mardon was more athletic and less brawny than Rory, they both had a great deal of strength and Len preferred that they release their energy in beating each other up in the gym then burning or icing anything.

Mark had accepted his new nickname though, "Storm", given to him by Hartley. Len saw their newest member's small smile when Rathaway dubbed him, and he knew that Mark was touched by this inclusion in the group, though the kid would probably never say as much.

Lisa pulled the van to a stop and the Rogues stepped out. Len and Mick walked towards the casino first, Lisa and Mark going around to a side entrance. Hartley was the only one who stayed in the van, to monitor all channels and only step in if things went south. The two guards at the entranced were iced in a second, as Len was not going to bother wasting time faking an invite to the Santini party going on inside.

The timing of their strike was not random. Hartley had been listening to the mafia's chatter for weeks and tonight most of the top rankers in the Santini family would be present as the books were tallied and they celebrated the end of a fruitful year. When Len had heard that he knew this was the perfect time to hit the mafia family, Old Rafael Santini hardly left his home nowadays except for gatherings such as this, so there would be no greater opportunity than now to hit them.

Walking into the casino, Len fired a blast at two guards while Mick pulled out his .45 and took out another two guards just coming up the stairs. The music in the casino stopped, everyone turning to face the main doors where Len and Mick stood.

"Evenin'," Len said with a smirk, "I suggest everyone who isn't armed leave this party right now, 'cause things are about to get cold."

There was a flurry of activity as barmen and the other casino personnel ducked for cover amid the resounding click of guns being loaded. Every Santini family member and goon had a gun, aimed at Len and Mick, and all it did was cause the new older Rogues to smile even more.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Snart," Georgio Santini said, the eldest grandson of Rafael, who sat in a booth looking extremely worried.

"I do, don't I?" Len asked, his smirk not diminishing. "Well, when it's time for new management I think a lot of nerve is needed."

"You really think the two of you can take us down?" Another Santini asked.

A yell from the back door had all eyes turning, the henchman standing guard there holding his frozen hand while backing away from two figures stepping in." Knock, knock," a female voice purred, and Lisa and Mark made their entrance.

"Remember me?" Mark asked, and then the fighting began.

Len and Mick ran down the stairs, the blue coat Rogue icing anyone who was in his sights, and his partner shooting with deadly aim. One Santini goon rushed Mick when he was reloading, and Rory kicked the man in the chest, sending him back into a pool table. Len noted Lisa's gun turning someone into gold, before he ducked down and overturned a card table. Bullets riddled the top, none piercing as the Santinis' had prepared for the eventuality they might need to use such things as protection. The leader of the Rogues popped back up to fire his gun, sending a blast of ice at three gunmen, who screamed as their skin froze and they fell to the ground in agony.

Mark had his eyes on one person, Martelli, the man who had beaten him many times when he did not perform to the Santinis' expectations. The man was actually moving toward Mardon, cracking his knuckles, bullets flew all around them, blasts from the cold gun and Lisa's gold gun did not phase the two at all. Martelli went in swinging, and Mark let him, stepping to the side to trip the man before sending hail flying in an arc before him before turning back to his tormentor. The ice hit several people, and distracted others long enough for Len, Mick and Lisa to shoot them.

Giuseppe Martelli got up, opening his leather coat to pull out a shock stick. The sight of it made Mark pause, remembering very well the numerous times the man had used it on him but when he saw it being swung in his direction Mardon moved. He had been powerless before against Martelli, forced to take several beatings without being able to fight back, as the collar would have punished him anyways. Now, though, for the first time since he'd been struck by lightning, Mark enjoyed using his power. He summoned the wind, letting it surge through the casino and knock several of the Santini crowd off their feet. Then, as Martelli came at him, Mark grabbed hold of the wind and sent it hurling at the person he had come to hate more than anyone else in the world. The force of the wind sucker-punched Martelli in the gut, knocking the man back a good ten feet into a wall.

Mark quickly sent bolts of lightning at three men who turned to shoot at him. The lightning zapped each man in the chest, sending them to the ground. They're dead, Mark knows, no one can survive a direct electric bolt. Martelli was back in his feet, wiping blood from his face and glaring at Mardon, if Mark were the playing sort he'd toy with the man, make him fear the meta-human, but Mark wanted this night to end.

Rushing forward, a shard of ice appearing in his hand, Mark dodged the swing Martelli sent at his face and spun on his heel. The man never knew what hit him. Mark watched the body fall to the floor, feeling as though he were detached from his body for the guilt he usually felt when taking a life was absent.

Len was startled from freezing two mob thugs by the cry of pain that emanated from across the room. He turned his head, his heart clenching in anger as Mark Mardon went down, blood streaming from a bullet wound in the younger man's shoulder. Len heard Mick's roar in outrage, the pyromaniac paying no heed to his own safety as he fought his way to the fallen meta-human's side. Mick heaved up a table and threw it, taking out four goons of the Santinis' who tripped over one another trying to get out of the way. With the way cleared, Rory scooped up Mark and pulled him into an alcove.

Len found himself back-to-back with Lisa, their guns blasting in a swirl of white and gold, frost and liquid combining to make beautiful, if somewhat-morbid, pieces of art. The power of the Santinis fell before them, even Rafael Santini, trying to use his bodyguards as shields while making an escape, could not outrun the blasts of ice and gold. Len felt no pity killing the old man, whose hands were stained with more blood than even Snart's own father's.

When it was over, the bodies littered the casino floor. Len knew they hadn't killed everyone, some people, no matter how much they were being paid, would choose self-preservation over staying to fight. Surveying the damage though, Len knew the Santinis' were through; their territory was now his.

The Rogues did not stay around to celebrate though. The cops would be coming soon, and Mark needed medical attention. Getting back to the van, Hartley drove for their safe house while the other three argued over what to do next.

"He's bleeding, Len," Lisa needlessly pointed out, "can you stitch that? He needs the hospital!"

"He's a wanted man," Mick said, "cops will be all over him if he shows his face there."

Mick grimaced, pressing a hand to his shoulder to ice over the wound. The kid cried out, lurching in Len's hold as the cold pierced him. Len steadied him, his mind calculating scenarios even as he listened to Mick and Lisa bicker.

"There's someone we can get to help Mark, without going to the hospital." The two scowling Rogues looked at him, curious of who Len had in mind. "But it's going to take your unique kidnapping skills to get her, Mick."

"Who?" the fire starter asked.

"The doctor who patches up the Flash," Len grinned, "Caitlyn Snow."

 **Of the Flash TV characters, whom would you wish to be saved by?**

Captain Cold - 14

Barry(the Flash) – 8

Jay – 3

Caitlyn – 2

Firestorm(the young guy) – 1

Golden Glider – 1

Dr. Wells(The Real Dr. Wells) - 1

Jessie Quick - 1


	7. Chapter 7

**A reviewer made the observation that this story sounds Cold/Flash, and so I just want to make it clear that it is not. Nothing but brotherly affection grows between Len and Barry, of course it doesn't start out right and they need to interact more for their friendship to really solidify. Neither Len nor Barry have had the best of childhoods, and while Barry has had some good role models, Len hasn't. While Len knows how to be a big brother to Lisa he hasn't had the experience of really working with good people, he's spent most of his life as a criminal so this is going to reflect in how he deals with anyone. On the other hand, Barry has never had a brother, nor did I see anyone in the show that he had formed that kind of bond with. So, having someone terming himself as a 'big brother' is new territory for Barry, and in a way it's something Barry wants. He's only had Iris as a sister, and while they were close confidants there are just some things you need a brother for.**

 **Chris: Sorry it's taking me awhile to complete these stories, please let me know which one you wanted to see updated and I'll work on that one next.**

{Caitlyn)

Caitlyn Snow was not having a typical evening, but she tried her best to remain calm and focus on the task at hand. Granted, she should have been more aware of her surroundings, but with all the stress of the past few weeks trying to stay calm around Dr. Wells she had been too focused on getting to her car and not minding anything about her. Then again, given how quiet Captain Cold had been lately who would have suspected he'd be waiting in her car!

Caitlyn carefully glanced around as she cleaned the wound on Mark Mardon's shoulder. Leonard Snart was sitting in a chair nearby, cold gun resting on a knee but his gaze was fixed on the door. Mick Rorty was watching her, his expression undecipherable as he held the meta-human still. Lisa Snart had left as soon as Caitlyn had gotten the needle out of the medical kit Captain Cold had supplied.

Mardon hissed and jerked as Caitlyn started to thread the needle through the wound. Caitlyn winced in sympathy but did her best to focus and not get distracted. Something that became difficult when she heard a _whoosh_ sound that had become quite familiar to hear over the past couple months since Barry had discovered his speed.

"Scarlet," Snart's voice was smug, and Caitlyn bit her lip to keep herself from looking up, "figured you'd be arriving about now. Uh uh uh," the cold gun primed up, "not so close, Flash, the good doctor's working."

"What's going on, Cold?" Barry's voice sounded less angry than Caitlyn would have thought, instead her friend had a note of panic in his tone, " We had a deal!"

"Doctor Snow," Snart's address made Caitlyn pause to glance up at him, "are you hurt?"

"No," Caitlyn spoke firmly, looking at Barry in his red suit, mask in place.

"Have I threatened you with harm?"

"No."

"Did I promise to let you go once you see to my friend's injury?"

"Yes."

"You see, Flash, nothing to worry about." Cold stood up, gun still pointed at Barry, "Our deal's still in place, no one's been hurt and I didn't kidnap her for any criminal schemes."

"You can't just grab people when one of your Rogues gets a boo-boo," Barry snarled. "Especially a member of my team! Providing medical attention wasn't part of our deal, Snart."

Caitlyn was sure Snart was going to blast Barry, Rorty certainly looked like he wanted to grab his own gun. But then, a curious thing happened. Captain Cold raised a hand and tapped the side of his head, and Barry nodded. Puzzled by the interaction, Caitlyn had completely stopped working on Mardon's wound to watch the scene unfold.

"Play nice, kids," Snart said, grin in place, "Flash and I need to talk privately for a minute."

Caitlyn watched with no small amount of trepidation as Barry followed Snart into another room and closed the door.

"Please, Doc," Mardon whispered, "please just finish."

Caitlyn looked down in surprise, not ever expecting a criminal to say 'please' to her. She could see the pain in the meta-human's eyes, slightly glazed from the blood loss. "Of course, I'm sorry." Caitlyn got back to work, her eyes shifting only once to glance at the door Barry and Snart had disappeared behind.

[Barry and Len]

Once the door was shut, Len was quick to order Barry to turn off his com-set. "I've got a deal for you, Red, but I don't want it recorded."

Once Barry had turned off the device in his ear both hero and villain relaxed. "I can't believe you grabbed, Caitlyn."  
"What was I supposed to do, Barry? Let Mark bleed out? Had I taken him to the hospital the cops would have grabbed him." Len moved to where Hartley had set up his computers, "The criminal underworld isn't exactly an ideal place to find competent doctors."

Barry bit his lip, seeming on the point of saying something but rethinking if he should. Len cocked his head to the side, "What is it?"  
The superhero flexed his hands, looking down at the floor, "What about a nurse?"

"A nurse?"

"Yes, one who has a criminal background and might have trouble getting into medical school, but if someone paid her online classes she could get her degree."

Len furrowed an eyebrow, "Being a CSI I'm sure you'd know of someone like that?"

Barry grinned, "Well, let's just say I ran across her while she was popping in and out of traffic."

At the thief's blank look, Barry grinned and elaborated, "Her name's Shawna Baez, she's a meta-human, broke her boyfriend out of jail but then he tried to make her use her power of teleporting for the mafia and she didn't like that."

Len's answering grin was wicked, "Teleporting? Really?"

Barry shrugged, "Cisco nicknamed her Peek-a-Boo."

Len snorted, "Of course he did. Well, where might I find this medically talented meta-human?"

Barry looked away, uncomfortable for reasons Len could not understand, "Well, that's the thing. She's, uh, she's in a cell in Star Labs."

The lightning fast meta-human watched as the man before him stilled, the thief's face hardening into his Captain Cold persona. "And how many more people have you locked away down there, Flash?"

The kid stammered for an explanation, "It's not like the police department is equipped to handle meta-humans! They can't even keep criminals like the Trickster from breaking out! How're they supposed to confine those who can turn into poisonous clouds of gas, or teleport, or manipulate other peoples' emotions? I did, what I had to do, Len."

"Did you? Tell me something, Barry," Len leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, "Do these criminal meta-humans get time out of their cells to walk around? Talk to each other? Read? Have privacy while they take care of their bodily functions?"

Barry's cheeks burned with indignation, "We had to build cells in a hurry, we couldn't make the best accommodations, sure, but we did our best! And no, they aren't let out, the cells nullify their powers but we haven't come up with anything yet to allow them time out."

The older man snorted, "You telling me little Cisco couldn't engineer something to allow those meta-human basic human right treatment? Let me draw this situation for you, Barry. You have a number of meta-humans confined in small cells, unable to talk or see another living person except at your convenience. Take away their powers and what do you have? Criminals in solitary confinement, human beings deprived of social interaction. Do you know what happens to a person if they're alone too long, Barry? They start going crazy, talking to themselves, imagining voices, trapped in nightmares that continuously loop. Everyone's different in how much they can endure, some break after a month, others after 6 months or a year. If they didn't hate you when you locked them up, they'll surely hate you by now, and do you know what hate does to someone, Barry, who doesn't have an outlet to direct it? Take that Shawna you spoke of. You locked her up for petty crime, but a couple months of solitary confinement with nothing to do but stare at blank walls and she'll be ready to kill someone." Len looked away, rolling a shoulder, "Take it from someone who's spent time in solitary, Barry, that's no way for a man or woman to live. Sure there are those who need to be separated either for their own safety, or other inmates' safety, but confining them with nothing to do but spin their wheels? That's just unhealthy, and asking for trouble down the line."

Barry slumped, "What am I supposed to do, Len? I can't do anything at the lab without Dr. Wells noticing."

No one would ever accuse Len of being a slow thinker. "First, Hartley's going to call Cisco and they're going to come up with something to nullify the meta-humans' powers that allows them to be let out of their cells. Second, we'll come up with a distraction to keep Wells occupied while you and I get in to talk to Shawna. I can offer her a good deal, medical assist to the Rogues and I'll pay for her classes, she won't have to help steal anything. But, you should know I'm going to grab the doc should an injury be beyond Shawna's expertise."

Barry sighed, "Good enough."  
Len grinned, "So, poisonous cloud of gas? Care to explain that one?"

[Caitlyn]

Once in the car, Caitlyn took a deep breath and realized that she had not actually been frightened.

"Are you ok?" Barry asked, sitting in the front passenger seat, cowl pulled back.

"Yes, Barry, they didn't hurt me." Caitlyn laughed after making a turn, "It's funny, I was scared when I saw Snart in my car but he never threatened me. Just told me where to drive and said someone was injured. And none of the other Rogues said anything nasty either, I had a brief glimpse of Hartley but he walked out shortly after I arrived."

Barry relaxed against the car seat, "That's good."

Caitlyn glanced at Barry, "They going to grab me again, Barry?"

The young hero sighed and shrugged, "Maybe, criminal life isn't exactly guaranteed to be injury-free."

"Well," Caitlyn breathed in, and then out, "I wouldn't be opposed to patching them up, Barry." Her friend looked at her in shock and Caitlyn shrugged, "I'm not saying I like how it happened, but I'd rather they grabbed me who knows them and knows how to behave then they try taking someone else who doesn't know how soft the Rogues really are."

Barry coughed, "Soft?!"

Caitlyn looked unapologetic, "Seriously Barry, what other criminals in this city can you name would have taken me as Snart did without a threat or roughing me up first to assure my cooperation? You can't name any, can you?"

Her fast friend crossed his arms and pouted. "Well, that still doesn't make it right."

"No," Caitlyn agreed, "it doesn't." She sighed, then grinned, "It was a little exciting though."

Barry huffed a laugh and the two friends lapsed into silence. That is, until Barry's stomach grumbled, "Fancy a couple burgers?"

 **Ok, going to have some action next chapter** **. Also, been wondering about bringing in Firestorm at this point, I think I might not do it. Just because I have a lot of characters already to work with and a general idea of where I'm going with this story, so Firestorm might not make an appearance. Caitlyn could get a happy ending though with a Rogue, thoughts?**

 **Of the Flash TV characters, whom would you wish to be saved by?**

Captain Cold - 16

Barry(the Flash) – 8

Jay – 3

Caitlyn – 3

Firestorm(the young guy) – 1

Golden Glider – 1

Dr. Wells(The Real Dr. Wells) - 1

Jessie Quick - 1


End file.
